


The Wrong Idea

by debian



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Episode: s03e13 Ghostfacers, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29086992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debian/pseuds/debian
Summary: He and Sam were going to electromagnet-wipe the place anyway, but he didn’t like the idea of anyone, even these idiots, having the wrong idea about the two of them.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 110
Collections: Every Time We Touch: A First-Time Wincest Fest





	The Wrong Idea

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [thesabotagedandovershadowed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesabotagedandovershadowed/) for looking this over! Any mistakes that remain are my own.

“So, guys, what did you think?”

“Uh,” Dean said. “What the hell was that?”

“A pilot that’s gonna get picked up, that’s what,” Ed said, high-fiving Harry.

“Why’d you have to edit it like that?” Dean shook his head. Next to him, Sam was doing a bad job holding back a laugh, but Dean didn’t see what was so funny about all this.

“Like what?”

“Like we’re a couple of sickos, that’s what. What are you trying to say here, paralleling Sam and me with you and Corbett like that?”

“What are you talking about?” Ed said, and Dean stepped into his space, because there was no way he was actually that oblivious. He’d taken a perfectly normal case and edited together some kind of—romantic montage, or something. He must have edited out all the normal moments to make it seem like all Sam and Dean did was gaze at each other, like the actual hunting was just an inconvenient sublot.

Sam didn’t seem to be bothered by brotherly-relationship-turned-chick-flick edit. He grabbed Dean by the sleeve. “C’mon, let’s just go,” he said, openly laughing.

Dean shook him off. Yeah, they were going to electromagnet-wipe the place anyway, but he didn’t like the idea of anyone, even these idiots, having the wrong idea about the two of them. It _was_ the wrong idea, of course, because Dean was careful. There was a difference between having inappropriate feelings for your brother and making said inappropriate feelings known. He was intimately familiar with that difference. Or at least he thought he was—he’d never had the chance to observe his performance before and find it so obviously lacking.

“You seriously don’t see how screwed up this is? I’m surprised James Cameron here didn’t set it to My Heart Will Go On.”

“The music rights would be too expensive,” Ed said sadly. “You know how that is.”

He would’ve liked to stick around and yell at Ed some more for good measure, but Dean let Sam pull him out of there. The grin on Sam’s face was already fading, and Dean had liked this better when Sam thought the whole thing was hilarious. Somewhere between the makeshift studio and the car, Sam had apparently stopped finding Dean’s reaction to the incest supercut funny at all. He stared as Dean started the car, forehead wrinkled like he was determined to figure this out. It was bad enough that Sam thought there was something to be figured out—they both knew that once Sam set his giant brain on something it was already as good as solved.

“What’d you get so defensive in there for, Dean?” Sam said. “We erased the tapes.”

“Wish we could erase their memories, too,” Dean muttered.

Maybe Sam decided this wasn’t a thread that he wanted to pull at after all, because he said, “That would be cool, huh? Like that thing they had in _Men in Black_.”

Dean could have accepted it, shared his thoughts on the totally sick aliens in _Men in Black II_ and peeled away from the curb and put a hundred miles of highway between them and this conversation. But now that they had started, and even though Sam had given him an out, Dean couldn’t find it within him to want to stop. It was like picking at a scab. It couldn’t do anything but bleed and leave a scar, but it was near impossible to resist.

His days were numbered. There were already so many scars between them. Dean didn’t try all that hard to resist.

He slouched back in his seat, still in park, and gave Sam a sidelong look. “Sam, I— I don’t have a lot of time left. I don’t want the way people… I don’t want the way you remember me to be as some kind of freak, or someone who would—” Dean swallowed, forcing himself not to look away. “I just want you to remember me as your brother.”

Sam looked away instead, finally, down at his lap. “You’ll always be my brother,” he said. Then he smiled. “And for the record, I didn’t see the screwed-up edit you’re talking about. I just saw a bad pilot about us working a case. Honestly, it didn’t look to me like Ed did anything weird.”

He should’ve let Sam change the subject.

Sam said, “I think you only saw that because you were so afraid of seeing it. Afraid _I’d_ see it, I guess.” He shook his head. “You shouldn’t be. There’s nothing I could see on camera that I don’t already know, Dean. I know you. Always have, always will.” 

Sam exhaled. Dean couldn’t breathe. 

He kept going. “I’ve been afraid too. Not like you think. I was afraid it would change things, afraid I would lose you. After I came back, after everything with Dad, I didn’t think I could stand to lose you too. But now...”

Dean’s mouth twisted. _Not so much of an issue anymore_. It was morbid to think of, but for all the deal had complicated things, it had made this thing simpler between them. Dean couldn’t be mad at Sam for putting this out into the open, especially since he had started it. It was easier to forgive when you didn’t have much time left.

But that didn’t mean he was going to make it easy for Sam. “What are you saying, Sammy?” Dean said, low enough that someone would have to be pretty close to hear.

“I don’t have anything left to lose,” Sam said, choked up, lower still.

Dean hated being responsible for that desperation in Sam’s eyes, hated how many times he’d seen Sam like this over the past year, always the same, always heartbreaking. But maybe this time it was a little different, because Sam planted a hand firm on Dean’s thigh. The front seat of the Impala had never felt so small.

Dean kissed him. There was no other way to answer a look like that, no better way to be close to Sam in what time he had left. They were still in town, still idling by the curb in broad daylight, but he didn’t care if the Ghostfacers—or anyone else—could see. He would be dead in a matter of months, and the only person whose memory of him mattered was right there in the car with him, pulling Dean into his lap.


End file.
